


oh valley of plenty

by daisylincs



Series: Agents of Birthdays [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (that would be for the one serious FitzDaisy moment), (the rest is just fluff), Agents of Birthdays, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, AoS Finale Spoilers, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Happy Birthday Sun!!, Huntingbird & Fitzsimmons Reunion, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Movie Nights, Reunions, Softness, birthday fic, but definitely some, happy endings, not many, so be warned!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs
Summary: There was a time when Fitz thought he'd never get to settle down with the woman he loved, and never get to see two of his best friends again - however, he's never been happier to be proven wrong.
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter & Bobbi Morse & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: Agents of Birthdays [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886911
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	oh valley of plenty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunalso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/gifts).



> Dear Sun, 
> 
> Oh my gosh, happy, happy birthday!! I hope that you have an absolutely INCREDIBLE today, filled with all the things that will make you smile 🥰 Because, honestly, that's _exactly_ what you deserve.
> 
> To go back into memory lane a little bit, and also to explain _why_ I say that (though, to be _honest,_ one glance at your AO3 or Tumblr will already answer that question in full) - you and I first met through my, ahum, _much_ less glorified guest stalking days on AO3 🤣🙈 This was right as I was just tentatively coming into the AoS fandom, and I remember just thinking to myself, _wow._ She's really good, and from everything I can tell, she just seems like the nicest, most inspiring person, too!! 
> 
> Then I did my whole shy introducing-myself-to-my-favourite-people thing over on Tumblr, and what blew me away immediately was how instantly _nice_ and effortlessly welcoming you were. Not _only_ were you the sweetest, kindest soul in your initial answer to me, but you _also,_ instead of just leaving it at that, like you easily could have done, made a real effort to keep in contact with me, no matter how tiny and awkward my blog was in those early days. And I don't know, but I was just really, really touched by that gesture... and still to date, I think it's the mark of just the most WONDERFUL person. 
> 
> And, yeah, I know we haven't been able to talk as much lately what with COVID and general 2020 craziness, but... I still think that's _more_ than true of you. So I'm hoping that I can express a little bit of that appreciation and just how _special_ I think you are in this fluffy little post-season 7 fic! Because, stat: you're absolutely _fantastic,_ Sun, really, and I hope you have the most FABULOUS birthday today!!

**__** _Dunkeld, Perthshire_  
_Now_

Fitz strolled into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight in front of him, and feeling a flood of warmth and affection fill his chest. _Jemma_ was bent over the counter, humming to herself as she typed away at a tablet, obviously ordering their dinner for tonight.

Her hair had been messily twisted and pinned with one of her mum’s hair clips, and a few strands escaped to frame her face as she bent forward. Every so often, she’d distractedly blow one of them out of her eyes, then continue with her typing.

Even after nearly six years of marriage, she still managed to astound him - how she could look so beautiful and quite honestly _perfect_ even, dressed as she was, in one of his old T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants.

“I know you’re there, Fitz,” she called out, not looking up from her typing, but he could see the corners of her lips tug up in a grin.

“Aww, my cover’s been blown,” he pretended to grumble, walking properly into the kitchen and over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. 

“Mmm,” she sighed, leaning comfortably back against him and half-resting her head on his shoulder so she could squint up at him. “What _ever_ are you going to do about that?” 

Her smile was warm, and playful, and utterly _irresistible,_ and, leaning forwards, he kissed her softly, grinning through the kiss when she sighed into him. 

“Heyyy,” she protested, shifting away to poke him in the chest. “Too much _teeth.”_

“Oh, _no,”_ he said in a mock-horrified voice. “Too much teeth? So grinning isn’t allowed, now?” 

“Nope,” she said, popping the _p_ and grinning up at him, her cheeks dimpling. “Not when you’re supposed to be kissing me, anyway.” 

“Ah, right, I see, _priorities,”_ he agreed, leaning down so that their lips were brushing again. 

Humming impatiently, Jemma fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him down closer so he was kissing her properly. (He didn’t have any objections.) 

He had just succeeded in spinning her around and pressing her up against the counter behind her, when, in a patter of feet and a blur of blond hair, the third member of their little household came dashing into the kitchen. 

“Mama, Mama!” she called, skidding into a stop in front of Fitz and Jemma. “Daddy, you’re here too, good!” 

“Yes, I’m here, monkey,” Fitz said, reluctantly disentangling himself from Jemma and bending down to Alya’s level. Ruffling her hair with one hand, he tucked a blond strand behind her ear and asked, “What’s up?” 

She grinned up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with bright excitement. “They’re _here,_ Daddy!” 

Fitz pretended to gasp dramatically. “They’re here? Already?” 

“Yes!” Alya exclaimed, clapping her hands. 

Behind them, Jemma yelped, dropping her tablet onto the counter and putting her hand to her hair in dismay. “Oh, no, they’re early,” she said worriedly, tucking a messy strand of hair back behind her ear and biting her lip. “I haven’t paid for our pizzas yet, and I’m a mess -” 

“I think you look _beautiful,”_ Fitz interrupted, getting up from his crouch to press a chaste-for-Alya’s-sake kiss against her cheek. 

She put her hands on her hips, but her eyes were sparkling despite her pretence of ire. “I know _you_ do.” 

He grinned back, completely unapologetic. She was his _wife,_ amazing as that fact still was to him, and he was most definitely allowed to find her beautiful. 

“Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll finish ordering the pizzas, yeah? You go up and get changed. Monkey -” He turned to Alya, who had been waiting impatiently by the door, “how about you go say hi to our special guests, and keep them busy for a little bit so Mummy can get changed?” 

“I’d love that,” Alya agreed, delighted, rushing out of the kitchen with her blond hair flying behind her. Fitz and Jemma both watched her go in fond silence for a moment, listening to the patter of her footsteps until she reached the front door, unhooking the door-chain. 

It was only when they heard the voices from outside greet Alya - and her shriek of happiness as she was swept up into the air by the owner of one of said voices - that either of them moved.

Pressing a quick, fond kiss against his cheek, Jemma left the kitchen as well, heading up the stairs and pushing their bedroom door open with a _creak._

And as Fitz picked up the tablet she had left, flipping it open and clicking on _Pay Now,_ he thought that every single step that had gotten them to this moment had been worth it a thousand times over.

_The Lighthouse, Location Classified_  
_Eight months ago_

The party was just drawing to a close, and Fitz was just making his way around the team, giving his last heartfelt but bittersweet round of hugs.

Once they left the Lighthouse tonight, they were never coming back.

And he knew he deserved this, deserved the chance to just _be_ \- but there were still things here that he’d miss. 

Well, more specifically - there were still _people_ here that he’d miss.

There was a definite lump in his throat as he watched Mack knock back a shot in a small crystal glass, raising it high to Fitz before putting it down on the table with a very final kind of thump.

He turned away, blinking hard… and found himself face-to-face with Daisy.

He swallowed, suddenly not sure what to say at all. Out of all the team members, Daisy was the one whose reaction he couldn’t guess at all - because, yeah, it hadn’t been _him,_ but Jemma had told him what the other version of himself had done to her.

“Daisy,” he said, and he hated how _uncomfortable_ he sounded, how… unsure of himself. They used to be the two who joked around about anything and everything, without a _second_ of awkwardness, and now… 

Well, she didn’t look at him the same way, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself to say what needed to be said - but Daisy, direct as ever, got there first.

“Look, Fitz,” she said. “I don’t know how much Jemma has told you, but -” 

“Everything,” he interrupted, meeting her gaze sincerely. “She told me everything, and, Daisy, I -” 

“If you’re about to tell me you would have done the same thing, I don’t want to hear it,” she cut him off with a small but sharp shake of her head. “Not tonight. Not when there’s already so much…” 

She hesitated for just a second, and in that moment he had a tiny flash of the effortless friendship they had once had as he saw how hard she was fighting to keep it together. 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he said quietly, but firmly. “I… I can’t tell you what I would have done, Daisy. I really can’t. But I _can_ tell you that… I’m really sorry. For all of it. What he - what _I_ \- did to you, and especially the _way_ I did it, was wrong. Completely wrong, and it should never have happened.” 

He took a quick breath, pain stabbing at his heart when he saw how blank she looked, how utterly emotionless. “I know you probably hate me, and you won’t ever forgive me for what I did,” he said, forcing the words out no matter how much they stung. “And I can’t blame you for that. But before I go, I need… I need to make sure you know that, at least.” 

Holding her gaze unflinchingly, he repeated again, “I’m really sorry, Daisy.” 

She was silent for a long, long moment, and his heart sank into his shoes.

But then, to his surprise, she spoke, offering him something that wasn’t _quite_ a smile, but definitely wasn’t a glare, either. “I don’t, you know,” she said quietly. “Hate you.” 

“I did for a while, I’m not going to try and hide it,” she said, lifting her chin as she met his gaze squarely. “But you’re a good person, Fitz. You always were, no matter what the other you did.” With a small, wry inclination of her head, she added, “What you just said to me proves that.” 

“And, no, I don’t hate you,” she continued. “I really don’t. And I came here tonight to tell you… things might never be the same between us again, but I _don’t_ hate you.” 

Unfolding her fingers, she showed him a tiny scrap of paper in the palm of one hand. “I brought you something to show you that, too.” 

He glanced from the little paper, to her face, and back to the little paper. “What is it?” 

She grinned at him, her cheeks dimpling, and just for a second, the Daisy Johnson who had been his best friend (after Jemma, of course) was back. “You’ll have to wait and see.” 

Then, to his surprise, she pulled him into a hug, resting her head briefly in the crook of his shoulder. “Make Jemma happy, yeah?” she breathed, so softly that he almost didn’t hear it.

“Always,” he promised, stepping back so she could see how much he meant it.

She nodded at him, once, holding his gaze for a fraction of a second longer before turning and disappearing back into the party.

And it wasn’t a reconciliation, exactly, but it was… _something._

After a long moment, Fitz glanced down at the little scrap of paper in his hand, biting his lip as he played with the folded edges.

Then, thinking of the way Daisy’s eyes had sparkled as she’d teased him, he flipped it open, reading the contents twice to make sure he was understanding them right.

Slowly, but getting wider and wider every second, a grin spread across his face. Folding the little paper back in half, he creased the fold once and tucked it securely into his pocket.

There had only been one thing written on it - a phone number.

And a name in a messy scrawl that Fitz would recognise anywhere.

_Airbus A380, British Airspace_  
_Seven months and twenty-nine days ago_

Fitz kept glancing down at the little scrap of paper as they flew, as though he had to keep making sure it wasn’t going to evaporate like a cruel echo of the Framework.

But, no. It stayed there for all seventeen hours of their flight, the scrawled letters messy and unchanging: _Amadeus Ravenclaw Hunter._

He fiddled with the cover of his now-completely-standard mobile phone, wondering if there was any point in typing out a message now. It wouldn’t send until they had landed, after all.

“Go on,” Jemma murmured sleepily from the seat beside him, managing to read his mind even in her eighty-percent-asleep state. “Youmph been fiddling all flight, jusht do it.” 

Her words were slightly muffled by his shirt and shoulder, but the message was clear enough.

Smiling softly to himself, Fitz leaned over and kissed the top of her head, lingering for just a second to breathe in the comforting scent of her lemon shampoo.

Then he turned back to his phone, opening it once and for all. 

He thought about what to send for a long time, staring at Jemma’s sleeping face reflected in the little TV screen on the back of the seat in front of him for a long time. 

Then, quite suddenly, inspiration struck.

 _If you ever want to see Liverpool get their_ arses _kicked,_ he wrote, _bring the hellbeast and come to these coordinates at five thirty PM on the second of September._

He hit _Send_ before he could change his mind, and, though he knew the message wasn’t going to go through yet, felt a bubble of bone-deep satisfaction rise deep within him.

He had just finished saying goodbye to some dear friends, yeah, but maybe, just maybe, he could meet up with some equally dear friends in his new life.

Shifting so his head was resting on top of Jemma’s, he whispered a soft “thank you,” into her hair. 

She made a sleepy, muffled something in reply that, by all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to make out at all - but it was _Jemma,_ and he knew her better than anyone else on the planet. 

Closing his eyes contentedly, he murmured, “I love you too.” 

_Dunkeld, Perthshire_  
_Seven months and one week ago_

Five thirty on the second of September rolled around a lot sooner than Fitz had been expecting - getting settled in to a new house with an ever-curious daughter was, apparently, a lot more work than he had thought it would be.

He and Jemma had managed it, though. They’d manage anything together.

This, though… this was something completely different.

What if Daisy had by some wild chance gotten the wrong number, and two total strangers were about to turn up on their doorstep?

Or, worse, what if only _one_ stranger turned up, battered and changed by loss and the years that had passed?

There was no way to know, and the cryptic reply - _you’ll eat those words, mate -_ didn’t give them very many clues, either.

They had prepared Alya for the occasion as best they could, telling her all about her Aunt Bobbi and Uncle Hunter - and also warning her that it might be better if she stayed inside for just a _little_ bit, since it had been a while since Aunt Bobbi and Uncle Hunter had seen Mummy and Daddy.

Alya had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and her face was now pressed against the window of her bedroom on the top floor, staring at their winding little road with just as much intensity as Fitz and Jemma.

When a car appeared at the end of the road, they all jumped, one of Alya’s biosensor-slash-teddy-bear experiments toppling off the windowsill. Yelping, she dived out of view to retrieve it - leaving Fitz and Jemma, side by side, to watch the car pull up in front of their door.

The driver’s door opened, and Fitz’s whole world stopped for a moment as the one and only Lance Hunter got out, the grin on his face big enough to swallow the county.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, spreading his arms, and Fitz’s world came suddenly, and in a vivid rush of colour and sensation, back to life.

Half-running forward, he wrapped his friend in a tight hug, holding on to the other man like they were in an airforce prison with a very dodgy pilot as their only hope of escape again.

Hunter patted his back, for all his bravado and cheerful greeting holding onto Fitz every bit as tightly. 

Dimly, over his friend’s shoulder, he saw Jemma hugging Bobbi, both of them swaying slightly from side to side as they clung to each other for dear life.

“It’s so, _so_ good to see you again,” Fitz heard Jemma say, her voice full of emotion. 

“Likewise,” Bobbi agreed, her voice softer than Fitz could ever remember hearing it.

Clapping Hunter on the shoulder, he crossed over to kiss Bobbi on the cheek, feeling an ache deep inside him settle as she returned the gesture immediately.

Retiring from SHIELD had been the right choice, he knew that.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss his friends.

Now, however…

“I can’t believe it’s really _you,”_ he told Bobbi truthfully, looking her up and down with an incredulous smile. “You look… well.” 

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was almost like something had changed about her - almost like the sharp edges of her figure had become _softer,_ somehow. More tender.

She was still badass, and ferociously intelligent, you could tell that just by looking at her.

But there was something _else…_

And then, from inside the car, a small voice piped up, struggling with some of the bigger words, “Mom? Daddy? Can I come say hi now?” 

Fitz’s jaw _dropped._

Hunter and Bobbi both froze, looking at each other in a mild panic. “Uh…” 

“Of course you can come out, sweetie,” Bobbi said after a moment of utter silence, taking charge of the situation. Walking around the car, she tugged at the door handle, and, in a tumble of Wellington boots and brown plaits, a little girl of about three tumbled out. 

Fitz recognised her immediately, the way he’d instinctively recognise Alya as his own daughter. This little girl, with her bright blue eyes and light brown hair, was the perfect mixture of Hunter and Bobbi, staring up at him with a shy smile.

“Hi,” she said, half-hiding behind Bobbi’s leg.

“This is your Uncle Fitz,” Bobbi said, her voice choked with emotion as she brushed her hand along her daughter’s shoulder. “Remember, I told you about him?” 

“I w’member,” the little girl said, nodding earnestly. “Uwncle Fitz, Auwnt Jemma.” 

“That’s exactly right,” Hunter said, coming around the other side of the car to scoop his daughter into his arms. “Well done.” 

She beamed at his praise, and the look Hunter sent her in return, all pride and softness and so much _love…_ it would have melted Fitz’s heart if he wasn’t currently so completely overwhelmed trying to process it all.

“Fitz, Jemma,” Bobbi said with a slight shake to her voice, “this is our daughter, Izzy.” 

“You have… a daughter,” Jemma managed, the first thing either she or Fitz had said since Izzy had made her appearance.

Her voice sounded odd - choked, and full of so many emotions that Fitz couldn’t even begin to name them all. First and foremost, though, he thought, was _awe._

“We do,” Hunter confirmed, holding Izzy a little closer against him.

Jemma shook her head wordlessly, and, still with that indefinable expression on her face, turned to face their house. “Alya!” she called.

Fitz could pin down the precise moment both Hunter and Bobbi processed what she meant - Bobbi’s eyes flew as wide as saucers, and Hunter tightened his grasp on Izzy, his jaw unashamedly dropping open.

The next second, Alya came scampering out of the house, her blue eyes bright as she made a beeline straight for Jemma. 

Still looking awed and shaken, Jemma scooped her into her arms, holding the little girl close to our chest.

“This is _our_ daughter, Alya,” Fitz managed to say through the flood of emotions currently coursing through his body.

Bobbi shook her head slowly, giving a half-incredulous, half-watery laugh. “I can’t… _You_ have a daughter!” 

“I know,” Jemma said, sounding just as close to the verge of tears.

And, ridiculous as it was, Fitz found _himself_ moved to whole new emotional heights, too - there was just something so incredibly _special_ about seeing two of his best friends again, and seeing they had a _daughter,_ and being introduced as her Uncle Fitz and Aunt Jemma.

It… he wasn’t finished processing it just yet, but he sensed instinctively that this added whole new levels to their bond.

Which was all very good and well and tender, but Alya, apparently, had different ideas. Wriggling in Jemma’s arms, she kicked her feet gently against her mother’s ribs. “Mama,” she said plaintively, “I thought we were going to see Liverpool get bleeding obliterated?” 

_“Alya,”_ Jemma groaned, throwing Fitz a _look-what-you’re-teaching-your-daughter_ look. 

_“Leopold!”_ Hunter said at exactly the time, shooting him a glare that said exactly the same thing. 

Fitz laughed, and just like that, everyone else was laughing, too - a little breathlessly, and more than a little incredulously, but _genuinely,_ and full of a pure and simple happiness. 

“Come on in, then,” he said, swiping at his eyes and grinning as he motioned for Hunter, Bobbi and Izzy to follow him in. 

“This is your cousin Alya,” he heard Bobbi telling Izzy as Jemma was pushing open the door, followed by Alya’s prompt and cheerful, _“hi!”_

Hunter caught Fitz’s gaze as they all trickled into the living room, and he saw his own awe, amazement and _love_ reflected in his friend’s gaze. “I never thought I’d get to see this,” Hunter admitted quietly as he watched Bobbi and Jemma taking the girls up the stairs to Alya’s room. 

Fitz could only nod, completely lost for words as he watched them disappear onto the top floor. 

Coming over to nudge him gently, Hunter said softly, “Insane or no, I think we should enjoy every last second of this.” 

Fitz turned to look at him fully, and, honestly, he had never agreed with any single statement more. “Absolutely.” 

_Dunkeld, Perthshire_  
_Now_

“... Liverpool is definitely going to win today, you little monkey,” Hunter’s voice came trailing into the kitchen, followed by a dramatically indignant gasp as Alya, most probably, stuck out her tongue at him.

Fitz shook his head, smiling to himself. He had taught her well.

Putting Jemma’s tablet down on the counter, he strolled out to say hello to their guests - their very special guests indeed. (Though, Liverpool was most definitely _not_ going to win tonight, thank you very much, Hunter.)

“Greetings, only Liverpool supporter that I actually like,” he said, taking the six-pack of beers out of Hunter’s hands and giving him a smirk in lieu of a proper hello. 

Hunter rolled his eyes and shot right back, “Hello, o father of devilishly-tongued spawn.” 

Beside him, Bobbi snorted, rolling her eyes at their dramatics, but accepting Fitz’s kiss on her cheek with a soft smile. 

“Jem’s just getting changed into something a bit more presentable, and then we can see about Liverpool getting their arses kicked,” he said, tilting the pack of beers in Hunter’s direction. 

“About that,” came Jemma’s voice from behind him, and he turned to see her standing at the top of the stairs, dressed comfortably in a pair of jeans and a knitted sweater his mum had sent. 

He folded his arms, seeing Hunter do the same out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean, _about that?”_

“Well, Jemma and I have been thinking,” Bobbi said, picking up smoothly from her friend. “We’ve been doing weekly movie nights for seven months now, and _every single time,_ it’s soccer.” 

_“Football,”_ Fitz and Hunter corrected her at the exact same time, glaring. 

“Whatever it’s called,” Jemma said, raising her voice to speak over them both, “the point is, we’ve been watching men kick at a tiny sphere and mostly fail to take the laws of physics into account for a grand total of… fifty-six hours now.”

“Bloody hell, what a great total!” Hunter exclaimed, sounding impressed, at the exact same time that Fitz said, in scandalised tones, _“Jemma!_ Did you just betray the noble order of football?” 

“You know I did, hubby dearest,” she said, shooting him an angelic smile as she floated past him to go stand next to Bobbi. 

“We _both_ did,” Bobbi confirmed, smirking at the looks on their faces. “And we’re vetoing football for tonight.”

 _“What?!”_ Fitz and Hunter exclaimed simultaneously, their delight at Bobbi finally using the right name for it completely erased by the rest of what she had just said. 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Jemma chided. “Bobbi and I heard about this _great_ series that’s on Netflix at the moment - _The Witcher -_ and we thought it would be really fun to watch it together.” 

Stepping a little closer to him, she widened her eyes imploringly, giving him the puppy look that would forever be his weakness. _“Please,_ Fitz?” she cajoled, brushing her fingers tenderly against his cheek.

Bobbi, for her part, resorted to _no_ such sweet-hearted shenanigans with Hunter - she just raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a sideways look and mouthing what appeared to be, _“car.”_

Whatever it was, it worked on Hunter. He sighed hugely, and Fitz followed him a moment later, giving his wife a mock-stern glare as she stepped away from him. 

_“You,”_ he said, “are _not_ playing fair.” 

But she just beamed at him, eyes twinkling, and, well, how could he even _pretend_ to be mad after that? 

They all trooped into the living room together, pausing to check on the girls (they were playing Mermaid Ninjas, apparently, and Izzy was currently _‘It’)_ and, as they settled down on the couch together, Jemma’s feet in Fitz’s lap and Hunter’s arm thrown casually around Bobbi’s… he knew that, no matter how much they grumbled and antagonised each other, they were all happier than they could remember being in a long, long time.

Getting to settle down with Jemma, and raise such a beautiful, perfect daughter with her, was _already_ a dream come true - but there was something just so indescribably _special_ about knowing that he was sharing the whole experience with two of his closest friends.

And he thought… that Witcher bloke on the telly might have white hair and a _wicked_ sword - but Fitz had his own valley of plenty right here.

And he wouldn’t change it for the world.

_**Fin.** _


End file.
